


The Two Times Jaime Thought About Fucking Jon Snow (And The One Time He Did)

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, fantasies, handjobs, m/m relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jaime finds his mind wandering one time too many.





	The Two Times Jaime Thought About Fucking Jon Snow (And The One Time He Did)

**Author's Note:**

> There definitely isn't enough love for this pairing!

Jaime found himself paying far more attention to the Stark bastard than he'd originally intended to.

The first time he thought about fucking him was nothing out of the ordinary. He thought about fucking everyone he interacted with for more than a minute, although he never followed through with it. Cersei provided all the pleasure he desired, and he'd grown so used to the feel of her that learning another lover would be alien, abnormal. But even the loyalest of men would find their minds wondering from time to time, and Jaime was no exception.

Jon Snow was hacking at a straw dummy the first time Jaime saw him.

It was the night of the feast but the boy had been absent. Jaime guessed the lord and lady of Winterfell did not want to sully their reputation by housing a bastard at the table of their trueborn children, as if the mere presence of him would bring fatigue and plague upon the royal family. In truth, Jaime thought he looked more like a Stark than the rest of the trueborns save for the young girl, who all harboured that russet hair and light eyes home to the Tully name. Jon Snow had a porcelain-pale face, onyx eyes that shone with a wealth of well-justified mistrust, and a tide of black hair curling round his ears like a bank of dark clouds. And he was hacking at that dummy like it had done him a great wrongdoing.

Jaime leant on the doorframe of the stables, watching his back flex through the skins of the leather outskin he wore. 

"Did he offend you?"

Jaime watched with demure amusement as the boy jumped and whirled round, his dark eyes searching for the disturbance. It was almost gratifying to watch his strained face slacken in confusion, wondering why the terrible Kingslayer was leaning on the doorframe, watching him with something horribly like hunger in his eyes.

"Why aren't you at the feast?" Jaime pressed after recieving just a vaguely cold silence in answer.

Jon Snow scowled; he had such a naturally sullen face that the expression came naturally to him. "Lady Stark didn't think it would be appropriate to seat a bastard in the presence of the royal family," he said. He sounded like he was reciting from a set of instructions. 

Jaime had the sudden urge to pry his real thoughts out of him, to make him spit on the names of Catelyn Stark and his half-siblings and his oh-so-honorable father. He wanted the pallid, withdrawn boy to become alight with a fiery rage that scorched everybody's judgements of him to nothing but ash and black dust.

Jaime wondered then what else this bastard could do with such a fiery rage. He looked at him ahain then, im a different way - the solidness hidden under his leathers, the stocky height, the clenchef jaw and sloping nose and hard eyes. He'd probably never been touched by a woman, let alone a man, due to his status - or lack thereof. He'd be beautifully naive, open and warm and Jaime's for the taking if he so desired.

But he didn't desire. Not quite yet.

——————

The second time Jaime thought about fucking Jon Snow was when he played with his younger sister.

Her name was Arya and she was the only trueborn Stark that looked like Jon, probably another of his many reasons for feeling so out of place with his siblings. Arya was the complete opposite to her other sister. Sansa Stark was proper and polite and pretty. Arya was very much skinned knees and tousled hair once-soft hands now callused from sparring swords and bows too heavy for her spindly frame. She was the one Jon Snow was closest to.

Arya was sparring with Jon when Jaime happened upon them in the yard. To his surprise, Jon was laughing as his younger sister's arm plunged and jabbed clumsily. Jaime could see that Jon could easily beat her, but he was allowed her to continually bruise his arms and stomach, and eventually loosened his grip on his sword so that a sure whack from her knocked it from his hand and sent it skidding across the yard to land at Jaime's feet.

The bastard's smile faded immediately. "Apologies, ser," he said stiffly, dropping to his knees to retrieve fallen sword. It proved a difficult feat, however, when Jaime's foot landed firmly on the blade.

"Ser?"

"You've been on your knees half your life, haven't you, bastard?" he asked demurely, barely a crease of question between his pale brows as he stared down at Jon with an odd expression. Realisation dawned coldly on Jon's face, and his eyes dropped. He was still on his knees.

Jaime wondered, briefly, what it would be like to have Jon on his knees in a very different scenario. He had plump, soft-looking lips and a mouth too sharp for his own good. Slowly, Jaime removed his foot from his sparring sword, and the bastard picked it up.

"Take care not to let an eleven-year-old girl beat you again," Jaime called as Jon made to retreat. "Even if you are letting her."

——————

The one time Jaime actually fucked Jon Snow was the night before he left for the Wall.

Jaime could hardly say he was surprised; Ned Stark had fed his bastard the same fantasies every man on the Wall had heard; that the Night's Watch was made up of honorable men made to serve and protect the realm and all that nonsense. Jaime knew for a fact the Night's Watch was made up of piss-drunk thieves, rapers, killers and young boys with no place in the world.

Snow was in his bedchambers on the fateful night that Jaime came to visit.

He wasn't thinking. His head was clouded with sweet wine and the perfume of those daft purple flowers Cersei had set in a marble vase by his bedside. Drunk with alcohol and giddy on lust, he found himself outside the bastard's chambers rather than Cersei's.

"So," is how he'd announced himself, and Jon had dropped the cloak he was carrying due to his start of surprise. "You leave tomorrow."

"I do," Jon replied bleakly, stooping down to pick up the cloak.

"Join the Night's Watch, swear your vows." Jaime grimaced. "Do you know what the vows are, Snow?"

"I can take no wife nor father any children. I can never desert my post. I can-"

"Yes, yes, they're the same vows as the Kingsguard ones, did you know? And yet I often find myself in these mindless states of lust, when I find the wine too sweet or the politics too tedious."

Snow's cheeks had darkened considerably. "I - I'm not sure this is an appropriate conversation for us to be having, ser."

Jaime scoffed, stepping completely into his chambers and closing the door behind him, never once taking his eyes off Snow. The bastard backed up warily. "Ser?"

"You can take no wife nor father any children," Jaime parroted. "And it seems such a crime to let you go to the Wall untouched. You'll never feel the warmth of another's body on you, nor hands that are not your own around your cock." Jon's breath hitched slightly, his skin darkened further. Jaime pressed on, getting closer to Jon all the while. He had stopped backing away.

"I can't-" he choked as Jaime slowly reached out and tugged on his outskin; it fell away, revealing just his cotton undershirt. "We can't-"

"Why not?" Jaime breathed, no longer putting up any cool pretenses. "Never in our vows does it say anything about lying with a man."

Snow swallowed; Jaime's saw his eyes flicker briefly down to his lips, and that was all he needed. He surged forward, smothering Jon's lips with his own, grabbing the lower between his teeth and tugging at it. Jon groaned in muffled surprise, but his hands that shot up to Jaime's chest weren't pushing him away, rather grabbing fistfuls of his outskin.

It was hard to remember that Snow was untouched, the way his mouth moved so naturally against Jaime's. He didn't want to go to the bed - he wanted to feel Snow for one night, give him a parting gift and be done with it. It was with that notion, that one clear thought drifting across his hazy mind, that he flipped Jon around so his back was pressed to Jaime's front and slammed him against the wall.

Jon groaned in pain, but it quickly tailed into one of pleasure as Jaime's lips ravaged the back of his cleanly-cut neck. He tore mindlessly, animalistically at the back of Jon's undershirt - it split in a jagged motion down the middle, exposing his back to the naked air. Jaime sighed in approval at the sight of Snow's well-muscled back and arms as he shoved a hand down the front of Snow's leggings.

The bastard exhaled sharply, his hips mindlessly raising to meet Jaime's hand. He found his member quickly, wrapping his hand around it qnd beginning to pump it, moving until Jon's moans became almost softly pleading and he spilled for the first time. Jaime quickly removed his fist and spun Jon back around, pushing him to his knees. Jon got the motion and, almost nervously, dropped. 

Jaime wasted little time undoing his breeches and pulling forth his cock. He saw Snow swallow at it's size, and this reminder of his innocence only spurred his fire further. "Your mouth was made for one thing," he breathed, and shoved his his forward until the head of his member pushed past Snow's lips.

As Jon tentatively began to suck, Jaime groaned and knotted a fistful of those dark curls between his fingers. He bucked his hips until he felt he would burst, shoved himself throat-deep.

Jon gagged immediately, trying to pull back out of instinct, but Jaime held him until he calmed and he gradually resumed his motions until Jaime spilled his seed down his throat. Jon choked for air as he pulled back, stowing his cock back into his breeches.

"Enjoy your time at the Wall," he called breathlessly as he made to leave. "But if you change your mind, you know where my chambers are."


End file.
